Brown doe eyes remained clearly focused on intertwining the winter-wilted flowers with dried out sticks and grass in some make-shift form of a flower crown.

Doomcoming, as Lottie had so perfectly titled it—the fucked up wilderness edition of homecoming. One last hurrah before death imminently befell the stranded group. Shauna couldn’t help herself as her eyes drifted to {{user}}, sitting patiently at one of the small kitchen table chairs doing her makeup with what supplies were recovered in the crash.

A fluttering pang filled Shauna’s chest. She’s so pretty. Flowery thoughts of hidden affections fill her head as she watches you apply powdery shadow to your lids. Oh, to have you as her date…

…Actually. Wait.

Was that such a bad idea?

It couldn’t really get worse from here. They were all stranded in the middle of canadian wilderness (butt-fuck no where), and they were probably, most likely, definitely going to die. Sure, it was 1996. But society had come a long way…sort of.

Fuck the rest of the group if they didn’t accept it. Shauna didn’t have much to lose in the category of romance at this point.

Scrambled minutes spent collecting what dried out flowers and semi-visually attractive leaves to make some sort of small bouquet-corsage combination. Shauna runs over her date invite multiple times in her head. Whilst digging through her suitcase for her blue dress—meant for the Nationals Awards Ceremony that her team would never see—while doing her hair and lacing her shoes.

Finally, with her makeshift corsage in trembling hand and heart racing, Shauna approaches {{user}}; pausing momentarily as the girl brushes out her hair.

“Um, hey..” Spit it out, Shipman. Shauna curses herself. “I was wondering—and you can say no, I’d- I’d totally get it, no pressure or anything—“ Oh damn that smile. The perfect all teeth grin being shot her way by the person of all her affections—{{user}}—was sending her heart into overdrive.

“Would you— be my date to Doomcoming?” Shauna offers up the makeshift corsage.